


What Are You Waiting For

by Hopeamarsu



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, fairytales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeamarsu/pseuds/Hopeamarsu
Summary: A story of love and waiting. Maybe what you seek is right there, you just can't see it.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	What Are You Waiting For

Your mother finds you sitting on your bed, hands wrapped around your knees, the blanket next to you. You look through the window with keen eyes and you don’t turn to her as she steps into your room. The image is lovely, how sweet you look sitting there but it’s late and she has read your bedtime story a long time ago already.

“Pumpkin, you should be asleep.”

“I’m not sleepy Mama!” The voice of a six-year-old is firm and unrelenting. You shake your head vigorously to emphasize the point of importance. “I am waiting Mama, I cannot go to sleep.” 

She chuckles gently as she sits next to you on the bed, turning her eyes to the window also. She can see the mountains in the distance, a large silhouette against the night sky where stars twinkle. The landscape in West Virginia is beautiful, the woods almost pictorial in their majesty. 

“What are you waiting for, Pumpkin?” She asks gently as she unravels the blanket and places it over your knees. The soft fabric is worn, well-loved, and your mother still remembers how it felt as she used to wrap it around her own body when she was your age. 

You look at her, eyes wide with that childlike innocence she hopes never leaves your eyes. You grasp at the heavy book on your bed, lifting it to your chest and pointing at the cover. Your mother looks at the picture, already knowing what she is going to see considering this book is never far from you. 

A princess, dressed in a large puffy dress, sits on the carriage, a prince holding his hand out gently as he wants to help her off it. It’s a pretty picture, perfect for a children’s fairytale, the linework smooth and pastel colors so pretty. The horses in front of the carriage look shiny and proud. The castle in the background rises from the ground, the greys and earthy tones offering a contrast to the princess’ light dress. 

“This, Mama!” Your finger pokes at the cover again, smiling wide. 

“You are waiting to become royalty?” 

“No Mama! I am waiting for my happily ever after!” Your eyes are bright, with no trace of sleepiness in them as they shine with eager anticipation. You know in your heart, will all your soul, that you want what the princess got: the love, the wedding, and the partner made perfectly for her. Someone to live happily ever after until the day you die. Sunshine and rainbows, all that the book described. 

Gently your mother picks up the book from you and coaxes you to lie down. She places a kiss on your forehead before smoothing the blanket on your body. 

“Of course you are Pumpkin. And it will come when it’s time. But now you need to sleep.”

“But Mama…” Your eyes droop a little, but still, you protest a little at being put to sleep. You want to wait for your happily ever after awake. You are old enough, you are not tired. You can stay awake as long as you need for the happily ever after to arrive. 

“I know, love. You need to have a little patience though, your happily ever after will come eventually.”

Her warm hand stays next to you as you finally close your eyes, slipping into dreamland.

***

The groom and groom sway into the cheesiest music the DJ can play but you find yourself humming to the music anyway. There’s a good chance it’s Celine Dion, she’s a classic at weddings.

It’s late, almost all of the guests are gone already and the catering crew has started the clean-up, yourself included in that. As you pick up the glasses from one of the round tables, your eyes are drawn to the couple yet again. Silently you admire them, how their suits complement each other while remaining individual and fitting the style of the wedding. How much adoration radiates around them, like they are wrapped in their private castle in the sky. 

“What are you thinking?” Trina, one of your colleagues quips from the table on your right as she sees you’ve stopped everything, her hands full with plates as she balances them with ease. The years in the business have made her almost a mind-reader, always anticipating every move of her clients and her colleagues. It makes her a wonderful friend, an awesome colleague, and a mother hen to you and other young ones in her crew. Her bambinos as she lovingly calls you. 

“They look happy.” You muse, slightly ashamed of being caught staring but you know Trina understands. It’s been a long day, a long week actually, full of appointments and schoolwork and this catering job and it’s past 2 AM, so it’s no wonder that your mind gets distracted. 

“They do.” Trina agrees, glancing at the couple kissing each other on the dancefloor. The music has changed from one cheesy song to the next. You don’t know the song, but they are all pretty much the same anyway. Your eyes track the couple, watching as one of them whispers something in the ear of the other, causing him to look at his partner, the love so very clear in his eyes. It’s beautiful and you sigh.

“I want that.” You whisper, almost only to yourself, but Trina hears it nevertheless.

“Want what?”

“The fairytale wedding, the romance, the love.” You murmur, placing some of the glasses on your trolley along with two half-full wine carafes. You draw your eyes from the view in front back to the table, flashing a half-smile to Trina in passing. 

She steps closer and deposits the plates on your trolley too. Her fingers grasp your jaw gently, lifting it up, her signature canary yellow manicured nails resting lightly on your skin. She looks at you for a moment, those sharp eyes taking in your tired features and that hopeful, the almost childlike look of longing on your face.

"Mio dolce bambino. What are you waiting for, then? If you want it, you need to reach for it.” 

You shrug, it’s not like you have the answer to her.

“Let’s just get this thing done before I fall asleep on my feet. Yeah?” You try to dodge her olive eyes before they bore too deep down into your soul and reveal all your deep, dark secrets out loud. Trina harrumphs, unsatisfied. She lets go of your chin, but point one finger to your face. 

“Fine. But we are not done with this conversation.”

You know she’s right, she will dig the answers if she really wants them. And Trina always wants answers. You just don’t know if you have them for her. _After all, do you know what you are waiting for? Or maybe more importantly, who you are waiting for?_

***

It’s late. Too late in fact for you to be still sitting on the barstool, a glass of your poison of choice in front of you. But here you are, alone on the eve of Valentine’s day, drowning your sour mood into whatever. As long as it’s liquid and has alcohol content in it, you are good to go.

“Last call soon, darlin’. Need a refill?” 

The Southern drawl flows to your ears, the lilt so familiar after all these years. Clyde Logan stands on the other side of the bartop; bartender extraordinaire and the proud owner of Duck Tape Bar and Grille, the very establishment you are in. You look up from your glass and take him in, drinking the sight in. 

He is a handsome one, all grown up since high school days when he was all limbs and big ears and slightly uneven teeth. Now he was all man, taller and wider than most of his patrons, his button-up shirts filled to the maximum with his body. The dark mane grown to his shoulders, hiding those adorable ears of his from sight. 

Despite the change in appearance, he was still the shy, sweet man you have had the privilege of calling a friend ever since he helped you with homework one hot afternoon back in primary school. Still so kind to everyone around him, always willing to lend an ear, ready to help with anything he can. 

“No, thank you, Clyde. I should get going, it’s getting late.” You offer him a small smile as he picks up your empty glass from the bartop, placing it with other dirty ones. You’ve always admired how clean he keeps the place, each item has its place behind the counter and the shelves are always meticulous. 

He smiles back, as he waves away the money that you try to push towards him. The small dimple on his cheek is cute, you think to yourself as you wait for the words shared multiple times during the weeks and months you’ve been visiting his bar. 

“Ya know I won’t accept that darlin’,” He pauses for a beat before continuing. “So… ya got plans tomorrow then?” 

“No. No plans.”

“ ‘m sorry ta hear that darlin’.”

“Eh, it is what it is.” You try to deflect, but for some reason, Clyde is having none of it. Maybe it’s the sixth sense, maybe it’s the timid tone of your voice or your sad excuse of a smile you try to plaster on your face in hopes you won’t get caught in the lie. Whatever the reason, he knows that the feeling of loneliness hurts. 

He steps out from behind the counter and crosses his way to you and gathers you in a hug. His cologne surrounds you, wraps you up in its embrace. It’s comforting, the scent of him as it floats around you, mixing with yours. Clyde gives out the best hugs, that full-body experience as he wraps his arms around and lets you just sink into the warmth that his body radiates. Your back muscles loosen at the contact, he has a way of doing that with simply his touch. 

“It matters, darlin’. You matter. What you want matters.”

“That’s the problem, Clyde. I don’t know what I want, what I am waiting for.” You mutter into his shirt, the dark grey one that looks amazing on him. 

He tips your chin up with his thumb, the motion reminding you of Trina, as he peers into your eyes. A calloused finger traces your cheek gently, almost lovingly. You look at each other as a moment passes. 

Two moments. 

Three moments. 

By the fourth moment, the tension between your bodies begins to rise as his eyes flicker to your lips and back again. Again and again, they go back and forth until you cannot take it anymore. It’s something you’ve dreamed of, the romantic in you hoping that he might return your feelings, your crush, so you can turn your friendship into something more. 

“What are you waiting for Clyde?” The words come out as a whisper as you breathe them out. _Are you afraid of his answer? Or are you eagerly anticipating if the tension is what you think it is? Will you take the plunge together?_

“Permission.” His voice is equally quiet, not wanting to break the bubble you find yourself in. The next words press against your lips, the distance almost nonexistent now. “Can I kiss ya, darlin’?”

“Yes.” 

The three letters have barely left you as he surges forward and claims your lips to his, swallowing anything that might come after. His own lips, soft and plump and perfect fit devour you. Your arms wrap into his neck as you press yourself closer to him, wanting to get as much contact between your bodies as you can. He groans at the feel and he pulls you in tighter, his flesh hand dropping to your waist as he anchors you to his chest. 

You are never going to leave this, you think as your lips move in sync with his, and that’s when you know. 

This. 

This is what you have waited for.


End file.
